


In Another Life

by evilqueenofgallifrey (MayFairy)



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/F, Trans Female Character, will be adding characters as they appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:21:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5141288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayFairy/pseuds/evilqueenofgallifrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of Misffle (Clara/Missy) AUs. All oneshots but some may tie into each other or get sequels. Rating will range from G to M but probably usually around T. </p><p>AU #8 - "I saw you trying to hit the "door close" button in the elevator but I made it in and then I pushed every single button to make you later for work, but now we're stuck in this fucking elevator as it stops at every single floor and I don't know what to say other than 'you started it' " AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Distress Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'i called the wrong number and started talking about my life and you only interrupted me after a few minutes of me revealing some pretty personal stuff and now you're invested in my life troubles' au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a disappointing lack of Misffle AUs and there's just so much potential there. I have a million saved into a tag on Tumblr so I've gone through and made a list of the ones I think would be the most fun with Clara and Missy. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Missy was almost home - thankfully, given that it had started to rain - when her phone rang. It wasn't a number she recognised, meaning that it was likely she had no interest in talking to whoever was on the other end, but by pure automatic instinct she swiped across the screen and brought it to her ear.

Before she could get a single word in to inquire as to who the hell they were and why the hell they were calling her, the person on the other end had launched into a full and utterly hysterical rant, making Missy blink with surprise.

" _John, I did something bad. Like, really, properly bad. I should have told you when it happened, but then it all went wrong and I felt so stupid. I'm a terrible person and I deserve to feel like this, I do, but I also can't bear it so I have to tell you. I cheated on Danny, John. And it wasn't just anyone, it was_ Nina _. She just turned up and wanted to get drinks and I shouldn't have said yes but I_ did  _because I was bored and it was_ Nina  _but Danny was away for that conference so she ended up coming home with me and it just_ happened _-_ "

While the woman on the other end stopped to let out some kind of half sob, Missy took a moment to process everything she'd heard so far. Talk about a personal crisis of crushing guilt. It wasn't an emotion Missy tended to deal in, and listening to how it had clearly poisoned this other woman, she knew it was a good call on her part.

It was only one extra second before the woman was off again, preventing Missy from interrupting as she had been considering doing.

" _And I know I was terrible at it, John, but I did love him, I did, Nina was a stupid whirlwind of a mistake from my past and she left the next morning telling me she'd just wanted some fun while she was in town and that she was headed back to France. Oh god I'm such an idiot. I'm such a stupid, selfish idiot. He doesn't know, John, he has no idea, but I have to tell him, I have to not lie, but I did already, he came home and I'd already cleaned the sheets and I smiled and I lied and_ oh god I really did it I really cheated on Danny-"

A few more sobs came out.

" _But the worst part is that I'm a little bit glad, and I don't know why, because I loved him, but that's just it, somehow it's already past tense and it's like I'm glad that I have a reason to let it all fall apart, like it wasn't quite right but I didn't know it until now - what the hell is wrong with me, John? How can a part of me be happy that I did this? Why am I so completely fucked up?!"_

Finally, there was an opening and Missy was able to speak.

"Well, to be perfectly candid, dear, it sounds like you've managed to find the most backward and subconscious way to get yourself out of a situation that was apparently making you just a teeny bit more miserable with every day that passed. But I could be wrong."

There was a few seconds of silence and then some spluttering on the other end.

" _I - you're not John."_

"Wonderfully astute observation, that is, well done," Missy drawled as she reached her house and made her way up the steps.

" _Oh my god. I'm so sorry, I must have misdialed-"_

"Well, obviously," Missy remarked, rolling her eyes as she unlocked the door even though the other woman couldn't see it, "But don't apologise. My day was quite boring before I got a call from a hot mess of a stranger in a state of apparent bisexual crisis."

" _Right,"_ came the unsure reply.

Missy discarded her coat and bag while keeping the phone at her ear. Once that was done, she sighed as she resigned herself to staying on the line. "Look, what's your name?"

" _...Clara."_

"Clara," Missy repeated, letting herself weigh the name on her tongue and rather liking the sound of it, "Well, Clara, I'm Missy."

" _Um...hi?"_ There was a pause. " _Are you Scottish?"_

"Yes."

" _Are you in Scotland?"_

"No. London."

" _Oh. Same."_

"Hm. Central?"

" _Close enough."_

An idea nagged at the edge of Missy's brain. To anyone else it would be utterly mad, but that was sort of her forte and things such as rationality just weren't her priority. This Clara had intrigued her and that wasn't something that often occurred.

"Look, this is probably going to sound completely bananas, but then I  _am_ completely bananas so that's probably why," Missy began after taking a rather deep breath, "But if you need someone to talk to about all this like  _right now_  we could meet in town somewhere for coffee. Could be good for you to vent to a complete stranger who isn't going to judge you since she's already heard most of the problem."

Stunned silence occupied the other end of the line.

" _I - thanks, I think, but that does sound a bit nuts because I have no idea who you are, and I'll be fine if I just call John. So, um, thanks, but I'm gonna hang up now."_

Strangely disappointed, but not overly so, Missy just smiled. "Alright then, poppet. Good luck with this fine wee mess of yours."

For a second she thought there was going to be a reply, but then the connection dropped. Missy shrugged and started humming as she slid her phone into her blazer pocket and made her way to the kitchen with the intention to make herself some coffee. She'd just gotten out a mug when the phone rang again.

"Hello?"

" _It's me,"_ Clara's voice said, awkwardly, and Missy's eyebrow lifted. " _I, uh, couldn't get a hold of John. And you know what? Coffee sounds really good right now and you're right, I really don't want to talk to anyone I know because I just don't think I could bear it so if the offer's still on the table, I'm buying."_

"Don't be a moron," Missy said, and heard Clara inhale sharply, "Day you've had, least I can do is buy you coffee."

The breath was let out. " _...oh. Okay."_

* * *

Missy sat in the coffee shop they'd agreed on, sipping at her own bitter and black coffee while she waited for Clara to arrive. She'd told her to look out for a dark blazer, razor cheekbones, and blood red lipstick.

A very pretty diminutive brunette came through the door, and her brown doe eyes landed on Missy almost immediately.

"Missy?" She asked as she approached.

Missy just held out a fiver. "Order and come back." Her lips curled into a small, satisfied smirk when Clara frowned a little but did as she was bid.

This day certainly  _had_ taken an interesting turn. Helping out a hopeless case to relieve boredom was one thing, but now the hopeless case was beautiful as well as vulnerable and that was a combination Missy found hard to resist when mixed in with subconsciously selfish and possibly self-destructive.

"Thank you," Clara said as she came to sit down and handed Missy the change. Missy pocketed the coins and surveyed her properly in the meantime, noting that she was likely twenty years younger than herself, with cropped brown hair and those impossibly large eyes of deep chocolate. They were watching her curiously.

"So, who's John, anyway, and why isn't he picking up?" Missy asked.

"My best friend. He's just hopeless sometimes. He's probably busy investigating the lifecycle of a certain species of dragonfly or something and just totally forgotten that something like his phone even exists."

"Well, in all honesty, this particular problem seems like it could use a more  _feminine_ touch of advice."

"...you're probably right," Clara admitted, but frowned at her slightly as she sipped her coffee, "But in all honesty, why are you wasting your time helping out a complete stranger? You don't look like the type."

"I'm not," Missy replied, tapping her fingernail against her own cup, "But I heard enough of your story to intrigue me. It doesn't happen often, I was bored and didn't have anything else to do, and I can't abide boredom. So why not help you and get some answers for my many questions?"

"Curiosity and boredom," Clara repeated, with apparent disbelief, "Seriously, that's it?"

"Isn't it enough?" Missy retorted. "It was a bonus that you ended up being so very pretty, certainly, but you were interesting even before that."

An absolutely delightful blush coloured Clara's cheeks at her words. "Um, I really have no idea what to say to that."

"Say nothing to it, just tell me the rest of the story."

So Clara did, and Missy learned how she and this Danny had been dating for about a year since meeting through teaching at the same school, how he had been awkward but sweet and they had stumbled their way through a horrific first date and somehow ended up in a relationship against all odds. How Clara had thought she was happy but now realised had been slowly becoming bored with Danny and the life they had been building.

Not a terribly interesting story, so Missy only half paid attention and put the rest of her focus into examining every inch of the other woman's face, body, and clothing.

"Does that make me a terrible person? Getting bored of him?"

"No, it makes you not boring," Missy said, eyeing her intently and enjoying how the younger woman shifted under her gaze. "Which is good, because I don't do boring."

"But what do I do?"

"Well, you have to leave him, poppet, I'd have thought that was obvious. Probably after telling him the truth since you seem all concerned about the morality of the situation."

Clara's eyes held reservation and melancholy. "But what if that's not what I want?"

"Sister, even  _I_ know it's what you want, and I've known you all of an hour," Missy said with a snort. "You want something new. You  _need_ it like you need air, there's just a part of you that can't accept how malcontented you were before."

Clara swallowed hard. "You're right."

"Of course I am," Missy said simply, "Besides, you have to break up with him immediately or else I won't be able to ask you out without that pesky guilt of yours getting in the way."

It shouldn't have been possible, but Clara's eyes got even larger. "I -  _what_?"

"I think you're breathtakingly beautiful and surprisingly not boring, and you've looked at my lips and breasts a combined total of fifteen times since you first saw me," Missy told her, examining her nails in a show of feigned disinterest. "I know you're not heterosexual because it was sleeping with that Nina that got you into this mess in the first place."

Clara's mouth had fallen open, but the alarm in her face told Missy that she had hit the nail on the head. The older woman leaned across the table to rest her hand on Clara's forearm with a deliberately light and teasing touch.

"So go to your boyfriend and break up with him, then come and have dinner with me," Missy murmured, her voice low and seductive as her fingers ghosted over the skin of the other woman's arm, "And I  _promise_ you'll never be bored again."

Clara, with slightly parted lips and dilated pupils, just stared.

"Okay," she whispered a moment later.

Missy smiled. "Good girl."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time:
> 
> Hogwarts AU - i am headboy/headgirl, and i've been asked to give a presentation on safe sexual practices, and you will not stop asking me uncomfortable questions to embarrass me, please stop, i know you know the answer to that, we did it last night


	2. Hogwarts AU: Sex Ed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts AU - I am headboy/headgirl, and I’ve been asked to give a presentation on safe sexual practices, and you will not stop asking me uncomfortable questions to embarrass me, please stop, I know you know the answer to that, we did it last night

_I can't believe I have to do this,_ Clara thought, staring at the students in robes milling into McGonagall's classroom. It had been temporarily magically expanded for the occasion so that it was large enough for all of the sixth and seventh years to fit inside.

All too soon, they were all seated and being shushed by the small number of teachers present. And then everyone in the room was looking at her where she stood at the front of the room awkwardly.

"Hey, everyone," she said, straightening up and putting on her Head Girl voice that emanated confidence and authority. "We're here today to talk about something very important. Sex is a natural part of life for most people and it's crucial to be informed and safe about what you're doing. So a large part of this session will be my demonstration of the three most important spells to know for practicing safe sex, but I'm also here for any questions you might have. I'm guessing that most of you know the basic mechanics one way or another-"

There was a pointed cough somewhere in the front row, and Clara's eyes met the one other pair in the room she had been hoping to avoid (or at least, for at least a considerably longer time than this).

They were ice blue and resting above a painted red smirk.

"Excuse me," Missy Saxon said, with an innocence so fake that it made Clara grit her teeth.

"Yes?" She asked, using all her self control to not snap at her.

"My parents are very...conservative-"

_That might be vaguely true but they can't stop you from doing a single damn thing you want and we both know it_ , Clara thought irritably.

"And so I've never felt safe enough to ask the questions I've had about this sort of thing," Missy continued, balancing the well played part of curious innocence with the utterly shameless side of her that everyone knew all too well.

_Oh no. You can't be doing this to me, don't you dare, don't you dare._ Clara, while keeping her pleasant and calm composure, was internally screaming as she gave her fellow seventh year a forced smile.

"Well, that's why I'm here," she said slowly, all too aware of McGonagall's iron gaze on her, "So whatever questions you have, I'll do my best to answer."

"Lovely, thank you," Missy replied, beaming at her, "Well, I should probably start off by saying that recently I've discovered my rampant pansexuality, but I have no idea at all how to go about having sex with a fellow female and/or person without a penis."

_Missy's hand up her skirt, her body pressing Clara's into the wall of the secret passage while her fingers find the place that makes Clara moan against her mouth-_

Clara pushed the memory as far back in her mind as possible and gave Missy a small, polite smile while ignoring the murmurs and stares coming from the other students. "Well, this would be an excellent time to refer to the anatomical diagram to my left," she said, pointing with her wand and giving a quick explanation of the relevant body parts and the one in particular that was key to female pleasure.

"So, stimulation via hands, then," Missy summarised, the corner of her mouth curling into a satisfied smirk that had Clara torn between wanting to slap or snog it off her face. A small part of her brain registered McGonagall scrutinising the other students in case they dare make a smart comment, and another noticed that Snape's expression was even more sour than usual and had been since lesbian sex had come up.

"Yes," Clara said, evenly holding Missy's piercing gaze.

"And...mouth?" It was said with deliberate slowness. To tease.

The Head Girl took a deep breath and tried to suppress vivid memories of what she knew Missy's mouth to be capable of, but she still felt far too hot under the collar. All she could do was hope that her face didn't look as red as it felt. "That's considered by many to be the...most effective way, yes," she managed to answer. "Now I'm sorry, Miss Saxon, but we should probably get to some of the other students. If you have any more questions I can answer you for them privately once this session is over."

"Thank you, Oswald, you've been very helpful thus far and I may just take you up on that," Missy said pleasantly, "By all means move onto other questions and your demonstrations."

Clara gave her a curt nod, took a couple more questions which were not nearly as stressful to answer, and moved onto showing the group how to perform flawless lubrication, contraception, and anti-infection charms.

Half an hour later, the students were leaving.

"Good job, Clara," her best friend John told her on his way out, giving her a bashful grin, "Bad luck you had to deal with Saxon being such a git. As if she doesn't know all this stuff, girls or boys or whoever she might want to be canoodling with." 

Canoodling was an odd word to associate with Missy, but it at least made Clara laugh. 

"Anyway, I feel sorry for whoever it might be," John continued, making a face, "I can't imagine anything more terrifying than being pursued by Missy Saxon." 

That sobered Clara up pretty quickly. "Yeah," she lied, forcing herself to chuckle again, "Scary thought, isn't it?"

John just grinned. "I'll catch you later." 

Once he was gone, the teachers were thanking Clara for handling the whole thing so maturely despite it being her own age group. She put on a big smile and told them it was nothing, but was all too aware of the one person who hadn't gotten out of their seat.

Stupid smirking Slytherin.

Stupid  _smug_ smirking Slytherin with those blue eyes that were already mentally undressing her even though McGonagall was still in the room.

"Well, Professor, if that's all, I'm sure I can answer more questions Missy has in the free period we both have now," Clara said to the Transfiguration professor, who nodded but did seem to be watching them with just a little bit too much curiosity. "Come on, Saxon."

"Yes ma'am," Missy murmured, sliding out of her seat and following her out of the classroom, staying close enough to be able to whisper in her ear, "You know, there was something a tiny bit sexy about you standing up there all authoritative. Like a hot teacher."

"Touch me before we're alone and I'll hex you," Clara snapped, jerking away from where she had felt the other girl's hand trying to reach for her waist, "Assuming I don't decide to do it anyway for pulling that stunt in there."

Missy pouted a little but complied. They walked together quickly, side by side, with a more normal distance between them now. All the same, Clara found herself more distracted than she should have been when she glanced over to see Missy staring at her with those wide blue eyes.

"What? Didn't you like my questions,  _Miss Oswald_?" She asked, with the faux innocence having returned. The mocking and teasing lay underneath, and it made Clara all the more determined to wipe that stupid smirk off her face.

"You're impossible."

"No, dearest, that's you. I'm just fun."

"I hate you."

"Maybe, but that's what makes it even  _more_  fun."

They reached the opening to their favourite hidden passage, and ducked behind the tapestry when they were sure no one was looking. The second they were out of the public eye, Clara was on Missy, slamming her against the wall with no care for her comfort and kissing her with a bruising force.

Missy, of course, voiced no complaints despite letting out the smallest cry of pain upon hitting the wall. She just kissed Clara back with a matching ferocity and started groping her through her uniform wherever she could reach.

"Am I getting some practical lessons now?" Missy asked when they stopped for breath, the mocking tone still in her voice.

"You're damn right you are, until you learn to stop running your mouth just to make me look like an idiot," Clara told her, her hands slipping beneath Missy's skirt and making her gasp.

"Ooh, I'm liking this side of you, Ozzie," the other girl said, grinning at her with darkened eyes, "But it's only going to make me want to run my mouth more often."

Clara rolled her eyes and dropped to her knees. "Just be sure to keep that mouth shut for now so that no one hears you."

Sure enough, it wasn't long before she had Missy biting down on the sleeve of her robes to stifle the overly gratuitous noises she always seemed to make during sex. Missy was a drama queen in every possible sense of the word, and that included the bedroom - even if "the bedroom" was usually more of a metaphorical sense than a physical one for the two of them. Missy liked to scream. Luckily, this time at least, she didn't go against Clara's wishes and more or less managed to smother herself so as to not make any passersby suspicious.

When the haze of her climax faded, Missy grinned down at the other brunette. "Should I run and tell McGonagall just how thoroughly you demonstrated your knowledge in this area?"

"Don't even joke about that," Clara said, but she was done being annoyed with her and it came out sounding just a little too fond.

Missy pulled her up by her red and gold tie. "Or what?"

"Or next time I do that, I'll stop halfway through and leave you with your knickers down in some abandoned part of the school," Clara threatened, and Missy just grinned at her again.

"Oh, Clara," she said, pulling her in so their lips were just barely touching. Clara had to admit she got a delightful shiver down her spine whenever Missy actually called her by her first name. This time was no exception. "You should have been a Slytherin."

"I know," Clara replied, smiling, "But maybe by being in disguise I'm the best Slytherin of them all."

With that, they were kissing again, and thoughts of talk vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: 
> 
> "I run the night slot on campus radio and some jackass keeps calling in to insult my music taste and request high school musical songs instead"


	3. Radio Pest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I run the night slot on campus radio and some jackass keeps calling in to insult my music taste and request high school musical songs instead”

It was Clara's second night running the booth at the campus radio station, and she was unable to keep the satisfied grin off her face as she put down the phone after getting a call from someone who was ecstatic about the last song she had played. The only thing better than running the radio booth was being praised for the way she was running it.

"This is The Impossible Girl, and you're listening to TARDIS Radio," she said into the microphone, "I'm taking requests, so feel free to call in!" She recited the number, and chatted about an incident in the science lab that had occurred earlier in the day until she got a caller. "Hello! You're on air."

"Your taste in music is pants."

"Uh-"

"Why are you playing all this stuff I could hear on any old rubbish radio station? I thought this one might be a bit more original, but obviously I was wrong."

"Well, I'm taking requests, so this is chance to make a change from my apparently pants taste in music," Clara said, doing her best to stay polite despite wishing there was a way for her to throttle this other woman through the microphone for making her seem so stupid on air.

"Good, that's good. Alright then, why don't you give us  _Bop To The Top_?"

Clara blinked. "From High School Musical?"

"No, from Phantom of the Opera," the woman's voice said with lethal sarcasm, "Yes, from High School Musical, you pudding brain."

Clara was so close to declining the request and hanging up on her, but she took a deep breath and searched for the track. "Okay, one massive throwback coming up." She hung up and put on the song, cursing the caller silently and getting annoyed at how her foot started tapping to the stupid song.

The problem was that when she took another caller, it was the same Scottish voice as before.

"Now that's what I'm talking about, sister! Go on, give us  _Fabulous_  this time."

"I think one High School Musical song is more than enough," Clara said, rolling her eyes since no one could see.

"Nonsense, you can never have more than enough. Come on."

Once that song finished too, she got another call. She wanted  _I Want It All_  this time, and Clara was about ready to let loose with some very unprofessional insults but managed to hold it in. Again, she appeased the pest.

The next call after that wasn't her Scottish menace but instead someone who was laughing about the music choices and telling her that it had significantly improved his night. That mellowed Clara out a little and decided that maybe this whole situation wasn't as bad as she had thought.

Then the Scot rang back.

"So I was thinking the Sharpay and Ryan version of  _What I've Been Looking For,"_ she said thoughtfully.

Clara, somehow no longer cross but instead resigned to it all, just made a face. "Yeah, I was meaning to ask that, actually. Why only the Sharpay songs?"

"Well, she was the one who put in the work to actually follow her dream, wasn't she? But this swot comes in and steals it all from under her without so much as a second thought."

"Oh. I hadn't thought of it like that."

"Give me a bitch who knows what she wants and I'll take her over the underdog good girl any day. Though you're obviously the latter."

"I'm guessing you're  _not_ the underdog good girl."

"Obviously not."

"Maybe they should have just teamed up," Clara mused, thinking she was seeing the juvenile films in a whole new light. "They could have wiped the floor with everyone."

"If this is your way of asking me out, it's even more pants than your music taste, dear."

Clara's eyes widened. "What? No, that's not what I-"

"Lucky for you, I'm bored of studying."

The call ended and Clara was left wondering what the hell had just happened. She played a few more High School Musical songs after that, out of a strange sentimentality.

A knock on the door of the booth about twenty minutes later nearly made her jump out of her skin. A young woman a few years older than her was waving from the other side of the glass, and with an odd jolt Clara realised just who she was looking at.

She tentatively opened the door, and the razor cheekboned beauty walked in with an air of confidence and a shade of red lipstick that left Clara's mouth dry.

"So, I'm Clara," she said, after going back to her chair and muting her microphone.

"Missy," the other girl said, holding her hand out. Clara shook it, but Missy lifted it to her lips to kiss it like a prince might in a fairytale book. "Charmed. You're as pretty as I'd hoped you'd be."

Clara couldn't stop the blush that graced her cheeks. "So, I wasn't asking you out," she tried to say, but Missy paid her no attention and put on  _I Don't Dance_ as if she owned the place.

"Does that matter now?" She finally asked upon turning around, taking a step towards her.

She swallowed hard. "Um, no?" 

Missy grinned and slid into her lap before kissing her with that devilishly red mouth. Clara knew it was ridiculous and insane but she kissed her back anyway and it was possibly the best decision of her life because  _dear god this woman knew how to kiss_. 

"Mm. Yummy," Missy whispered upon pulling away.

Clara lifted an eyebrow, but couldn't hide the fact that she was missing most of her breath. "You're a bit nuts, aren't you?"

"Understatement," Missy murmured as she leaned in so that their lips were almost touching again. "Problem?"

Clara thought it over for all of one second. "No, I suppose not. I've just never done anything like this before."

"You give me the chance, Impossible Girl, and that'll be far from the last time you'll say that," Missy whispered into her ear, her Scottish voice sinful and full of dark promises that sent a shiver down the other girl's spine.

Clara pulled her mouth back to hers, stopping only when the song ended to set up a queue for the rest of the night so that the whirlwind that had just stepped into the booth could demand her full attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time:
> 
> ‘I haven’t decided if I’m actually going to kill you yet but first, either way, what did you DO to piss off the Canadians so badly??’ AU


	4. The Hitwoman and the Impossible Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I haven't decided if I'm actually going to kill you yet but first, either way, what did you DO to piss off the Canadians so badly?' AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favourite thing I've written for Misffle so far. Hands down. Might get a sequel chapter later on.

Upon coming to, Clara Oswald - or as she was better known, the Impossible Girl - became aware of four things before opening her eyes.

One. She was tied to a chair.

Two. She was near the ocean, if the sound of the waves were anything to go by.

Three. Someone, likely whoever had knocked her out and tied her up, was nearby. She could hear the click of boot heels on the floor.

Four. Said someone was humming.

When Clara  _did_ open her eyes, her surroundings revealed themselves as some abandoned storage shed or warehouse, and a glance out the windows confirmed her theory about being at the seaside. Her chair was in the center of the room, and her captor was a good five metres away.

A small, lithe female figure, she was dressed dark jeans and boots with a plum jacket. Her dark red undershirt peeking out matched the shade of lipstick she was wearing and her auburn hair was coiled in an refined updo that didn't quite match her clothing. She was probably about twenty years Clara's senior.

"Oh, you're awake, poppet!" The woman remarked, her striking ice blue eyes lighting up. "Good, I was getting terribly bored, and believe me, that wouldn't have gone well for you."

"Who are you?" Clara asked.  _And more importantly, how the hell did you get the better of me?_ The only person who had ever gotten the drop on her before was the Doctor, and that was a special case. She prided herself on being  _very_ difficult to subdue.

"Oh, no one," she replied, waving her hand dismissively, "You can call me Missy."

"Who sent you after me?"

Missy smirked. "I feel like we both know the answer to that, sister." She came closer, her eyes darkly amused. "Somebody's been a bad girl."

"You seem like you'd know all about that," Clara retorted, making the other woman cackle.

"Well, obviously. I didn't earn my reputation from playing nicely in the sandbox, dear."

Clara frowned at her. She didn't like the sound of that at all, and couldn't shake an impending feeling of dread. Still, she'd been working on getting free of the ropes around her wrists since she regained consciousness. Because they were behind her, so long as she could keep the woman talking and in front of her, she'd be free in no time and would have the chance to make her escape.

"Your reputation? You said you were no one."

"Oh, yeah, I did say that, didn't I?" The older woman seemed genuinely surprised. "I may be guilty of a teeny little fib."

"Who are you?"

"Oh, later, dear. I haven't decided if I'm actually going to kill you yet but first, either way, what did you  _do_  to piss off the Canadians so badly?" Missy asked, eyes blown wide as she came to a stop right in front of Clara's knees and peered down at her. "I mean, you should have seen them, in a rush with their moose feathers so ruffled that they actually had the nerve to call on  _me_."

On the last word she bewildered Clara by dropping herself onto her lap, putting an arm around her shoulders and perching on Clara's thighs as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Clara stared at her. "Moose don't have feathers."

Missy rolled her eyes. "Don't interrupt me, Impossibly Tiny Girl. Not when I spent the last half an hour thinking of fun ways to cut you to pieces and make it so that no one will ever find a single one."

That made the younger brunette gulp, but she kept her expression and gaze even. She was a professional, after all, and she'd gotten out of worse scrapes than this. Her hands were still working on her bonds, making progress but not near done.

"Now, this is probably a good time to mention how much I  _detest_ Canadians," her captor continued, sighing as if she hadn't just mentioned dismemberment of the person whose lap she was sitting on, "Their country has too much snow, and they're not even French. They're even worse than Belgium. Also, every person there is disgustingly nice, even when they're hiring hitwomen. I don't  _do_ nice people."

"Then why'd you take the job?" Clara asked, confused. The answer was probably money. It usually was.

"Well, there was the money," Missy said mildly, as expected. But then she turned her head to look Clara directly in the eye, and it became apparent just how close their faces were now. Clara couldn't help but look at the painted crimson lips that were about level with her nose. Her heart hadn't exactly been idle all through what she knew was a dire situation, but it chose now of all obscene times to pick up.

"But then I think it was always more about  _curiosity_ ," the other woman whispered, her fingers tracing the line of Clara's cheek, "How could I not want to get a look at the woman who scared those nice little nancy boys until they had the balls to call the most notoriously unpredictable hitwoman on the planet?"

With a realisation as chilling as a bucket of ice water, Clara very suddenly knew exactly who was talking her. And, oddly, sitting on her lap.

"You're the Mistress," Clara whispered back, trying to push down the panic threatening to take hold of her. She was the Impossible Girl. She did not panic.

Missy beamed at her. "Clever clogs! You  _have_ heard of me then. I was almost worried. Now, be a good girl and tell me what you did to them."

"Why? If you're going to kill me, why should I give you anything?"

"Because I might  _not_ kill you," Missy told her emphatically, like it was obvious, making a big show of rolling her eyes, "I  _told_  you that before. Like I say, notoriously unpredictable. They only hired me because they were either really cross or really desperate or some combination of the two. And if they'd known how much I hated their ridiculous country and everyone in it, they never would have. "

"So, what, you might just let me go?" Clara asked, unable to believe it of the woman she'd heard so many stories about.

"Well, you'll have to be very,  _very_ good for that to happen," Missy murmured, with a voice like sin that made Clara's mouth go dry. Her nose was pressed into the skin of the younger woman's cheek, which was taking the invasion of personal space to a level that really should have made Clara uncomfortable.

And it did, a little. After all, who would have expected someone as infamously lethal as the Mistress to be so...tactile?

But then there was the problem of Clara's growing and rather undeniable attraction to the woman who had been sent to kill her.

"I hacked their computer system," Clara said, holding her gaze, "Laced inappropriate photoshopped images of the prime minister all through the network of their secret service. It'll take them months to find and delete them all."

Missy blinked, and then laughed heartily. It was rather frightening, but Clara found she also quite liked it. "Oh, you go girl. Was that it?"

"There might have been a bit more." And by that, she meant a lot, but Missy didn't need to know that.

"Do tell."

Clara just smiled. "Girl's got to have some secrets."

"I quite agree." Missy leaned in closer until their lips were almost brushing. "But tell me. Why  _do_ they call you the Impossible Girl?" Her warm breath hit Clara's lips, and she willed herself not to get too distracted. All she needed was -  _there_.

"Don't you know?" Clara whispered, lifting an eyebrow. Missy cocked one back, her eyes surprisingly warm and intrigued, murder quite clearly at left briefly having left her mind.

She'd gotten so comfortable on Clara's lap that Clara's - now free - hands darted up to seize her waist, and flipped them so it was Missy in the chair before she had time to react or counter. In the precious seconds she had while the other woman was taken by surprise, Clara grabbed her wrists and brought them behind the chair.

Oh yes, she was  _good_.

To keep Missy from moving while she tied the rope expertly, Clara straddled her lap, shamelessly pressing her body against the other woman's as she glanced over the back of the chair to check her handiwork. A sharp tug on the rope tightened the knot, just enough to elicit a gasp from her captive.

It was not at all the kind someone in pain would let out. Not unless they enjoyed it. The sound was blatantly sexual. When Clara pulled back, sure enough, Missy's darkened eyes were filled with a strange excitement and her lips were stretched into a grin.

"Well, you  _are_ fun, aren't you?" She purred.

"I'm the Impossible Girl because I can get out of anything," Clara explained, bringing her hands around to rest on the petite curve of Missy's waist, "Maybe you should have done your homework instead of just thinking about how much you hate Canada and revelling in some weird form of psychotic narcissism."

At first Missy just smirked, but when the younger woman very deliberately rolled her hips against hers, her eyes fell shut for just a second. Then they opened to look at Clara even more intently than before.

"Oh, I promise, dear, I won't be underestimating you again."

"No, I imagine you won't," Clara agreed, before kissing her. It was rough, with teeth and tongues and  _oh wow she's a biter_. She knew she shouldn't have liked that, but she did.

One of Clara's hands slid into the meticulously pinned updo to use it as leverage to deepen the kiss. (And to mess it up just for fun, if she was being honest with herself.) Her other hand slid up Missy's torso, coming tantalisingly close to brushing her breasts but deliberately not doing so.

The older woman let out a tiny moan into Clara's mouth, and damn if it wasn't one of the hottest things Clara had heard in her entire life. Who knew she got off on tying up and straddling dangerous older women who had been sent to kill her?

Finally, Clara broke the kiss, and relished how Missy licked her lips while looking at her with a heady desire. She also liked the sight of the red lipstick smeared all around her mouth and strands of her hair having fallen free to frame her face. The mussed and wanton look suited her.

Clara grinned, rather smugly, and pressed herself into her captor-turned-captive's body one last time. She savoured the feel of her curves against her own, and the breathy sigh that came with it. It was something she wanted to be able to remember.

Then she leaned back, preparing herself to get off Missy's lap. Something clicked in the other woman's eyes before they narrowed.

"You're leaving me here," she said slowly.

Clara laughed. "Yep." With a fleeting final peck on the lips, she slid off her lap and grinned. "Don't get me wrong, this has been fun. But you know, places to be. Things to see. People to do. Or, something like that."

Any warmth or attraction that had been in the Mistress's face before was gone. What her eyes held now was pure irritation. And if murder had a look, that was in there too.

"I'll find you," she growled, "And I'll hurt you."

"Go on then," Clara said, smirking as she stepped backwards in the direction of the door.

"Let me go now and I might not kill you," Missy added, in a vaguely sing-song voice.

Clara lifted her eyebrows, her smirk turning into a grin at the thought of a next meeting with her new adversary even if a small part of her knew it was insane. "Where's the fun in that? I'll see you round, Mistress."

With a wink, and a laugh, she turned and left the abandoned building without looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time:
> 
> “I had a one night stand the night before I started a college class and WHOOPS I ACCIDENTALLY BANGED THE PROFESSOR” au


	5. Oops I Screwed My Professor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I had a one night stand the night before I started a college class and WHOOPS I ACCIDENTALLY BANGED THE PROFESSOR” au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dirtiest thing I've written with the intent to publish online. Oops.

Clara was late. This probably wouldn't have worried her so much if it hadn't been the first day of her new history class. But it wasn't her fault - well, alright, it _was_ \- because she'd had to rush home and shower this morning before heading to the university, something she hadn't accounted for when it came to her alarm.

Also, there had been those pesky love bites - and _actual_ bites - on her neck she'd had to go about covering up, which had lost her another five minutes.

Still, she was here, finally, and it didn't seem like the professor had arrived yet either, so Clara was able to take a seat in the middle of the second row from the front. She got out her notebook and glanced around at her fellow classmates, gauging the range of people around her and being pleasantly surprised.

"It's alright, I'm here, no need to fret," a Scottish voice called out as a figure in a pencil skirt, high heels, and bright red lipstick strode into the lecture hall.

Clara's heart stopped. She knew that voice, and she knew that figure and those bright red lips.

_No, no, no, no, no,_ she thought desperately, _Clara you didn't, tell me you didn't_.

"My name is Melissa Saxon," the woman told the class, standing there with an unusual presence for such an average sized person, hands on her hips, "And this is History of the British Isles, first year. If you are in the wrong class, now would be the time to leave."

There was a scuffle as a few students sheepishly headed for the doors. But Clara was barely paying any attention to them because she was too busy trying to fervently deny the reality of her situation.

Unfortunately, that was when Professor Saxon's eyes fell on Clara, and the older woman came to a stop, her mouth falling open slightly. Clara knew exactly what was going on in the other woman's head because it was exactly what she couldn't get out of her own.

_They had met at a bar, and Clara had been instantly attracted to the older stranger with a glint in her eyes and cheekbones that put those of supermodels to shame. A bit of flirting over cocktails, and the woman - Missy, she said she was called - invited her back to her place, and Clara readily accepted._

_The cab ride had involved Missy's thumbnail raking across her wrist, over and over until the spot was sensitive and sore but in a way Clara rather liked. Clara leaned over and kissed her, lightly and curiously, and Missy smiled at her when she pulled away._

_Missy was on Clara the moment they got inside her apartment, any subtlety gone as she pressed the younger woman to the front door and snogged her so hard that she could only clutch Missy's coat and pray to survive._

" _Come on, poppet," Missy had whispered, grabbing her hand, "This way."_

_Clara had been led by the hand to the bedroom, where a luxurious bed awaited them in the centre of a bedroom otherwise filled with bookshelves. Of course, she didn't have time to admire the decorating because Missy was pressing her onto the bed and pulling both of their dresses off with impressive speed. Clara caught her hand and used it to pull her in, the older woman climbing on top of her and straddling her while creating a trail of kisses down her neck._

" _You're so yummy," Missy said against her skin, and although it was a slightly weird thing to say, Clara felt flattered all the same._

" _Thanks, but if you could get on with it, I'd really appreciate it."_

_Missy lifted her head and cocked an eyebrow. "Why the rush, pup?"_

_Clara ignored what had to be a reference to her age or an earlier remark about her having puppy dog eyes, and instead let her hands rise to Missy's back and unclasp her bra._

" _Because you're really, really hot," she said bluntly, "And I'm really, really horny."_

_Missy laughed, and bent to give her a kiss and nip at her lips. "Well, not the most romantic thing I've ever heard in my life, but the honesty is strangely attractive and you have quite the genetic goldmine yourself."_

_She discarded Clara's bra and bent her head to let her tongue and lips worship Clara's full breasts while her hand groped whichever one her mouth was neglecting. Clara's eyes fell shut and it wasn't until she felt Missy's mouth take a distinct downward path that she opened them._

_There was enough time for her to see a scarlet smirk and wicked blue eyes before the older woman had her squirming atop the duvet, and soon shouting a climax to the ceiling._

_As Missy crawled her way back up her body, something occurred to Clara._

" _Do you have neighbours?"_

" _Yes."_

" _Are these walls very soundproof?"_

_Missy grinned. "Nope."_

Clara knew that she should indicate _something_ to her, but couldn't think past her own mortification to get to anything rational.

Thankfully, the professor's head snapped away and she continued as if nothing had happened.

"I run a hard class," she told the room, "They don't call me The Bitch behind my back for nothing. I don't take excuses and I don't give extensions, I simply teach the content, give the assignments, and expect you to keep up. Anyone who can't handle that, I suggest you _also_ leave now."

Nobody moved.

She beamed, in a way that was more disconcerting than anything else. "Lovely. So, the course outline. Here's what we'll be covering…"

Clara forced herself to focus on the powerpoint slides and scribbled down anything else that Missy - no, Melissa, _no_ , Professor Saxon - was adding on. While the voice kept her on edge, not looking at _her professor who she had unknowingly had sex with last night_ helped considerably.

Finally, the class was over, and despite the urge to run out as fast as she could, Clara took as long as possible to clean her things away until everyone else was gone except for Professor Saxon. Clara got up and hurried over to the desk at the front of the room.

"Hi," she said awkwardly, "So, um, this is a thing."

Professor Saxon smirked at her, all professionalism now gone as she gave her the same bedroom eyes Clara could recall from the night before. "Apparently, yes. You scrub up well in the daylight."

Clara pushed her hair behind her ear and tried not to blush. "Um, thanks, so do you, but-"

"Do you think so?" Missy asked, sounding delighted. Clara couldn't hold onto the name Professor Saxon no matter how hard she tried because of the vivid imagery that kept cropping up in her memory.

"Shouldn't we talk about this?" Clara didn't bother to try and hide how worried this whole situation made her. It was something unexpected and out of her control, and no matter how much it made her heart race, that wasn't something she liked.

Missy just lifted an eyebrow. "About what? The half dozen orgasms exchanged between the two of us not twelve hours ago?"

_Missy's hand was along her headboard and clutching it with white knuckles while Clara fucked her. Tiny gasps escaped her, and the sounds made Clara grin and lean in for a kiss while her fingers never faltered. Despite being near dizzy with pleasure, Missy had enough presence of mind to take Clara's lip between her teeth and bite, hard enough to hurt and perhaps harder than Clara would usually have liked, but under the circumstances it only felt right._

_Finally, and with a great deal of theatrical noise that Clara could probably have done without but found rather funny, Missy came, her body shuddering against the headboard before finally going still._

" _I do so love good girls," she murmured, one of her hands coming to cup Clara's cheek, "Because they never end up being good girls at all."_

" _Never trust a pretty face," Clara agreed._

_Missy smiled. "I never do."_

When Clara's cheeks burned red, the older woman just laughed. "Oh, honey, once a girl's gone down on you, there's really no need to be coy. Is there any reason what happened between us should be a problem?"

Clara pulled herself together and lifted her chin. "No, I suppose not. You don't seem like the type to play favourites."

Missy grinned. "Oh, on the contrary, my Clara, I absolutely am. But no amount of favouritism would have me give out a grade the student didn't deserve."

"Oh," Clara said, "Okay. Good."

"Now that we have that sorted, let's move to the more important matter at hand."

Clara was instantly suspicious. "And what might that be?"

"My place? Eight-ish? I could even cook you dinner first, if you'd like," Missy said, sweetly, her hand propped up on her chin while Clara just stared.

"Isn't that a tiny bit illegal, dating one of your students?"

"Who said anything about dating?" Missy asked, eyes wide. "I know almost nothing about you, why on earth would I want to date you? I'm suggesting round two, and simply being nice enough to offer to feed you before I absolutely run you ragged."

Clara swallowed. Hard. "Oh. Um, still seems kind of against the rules."

"Well, unless you're thick enough to scream it from the rooftops, no one would ever have to know, because it's none of their business," Missy pointed out, getting up from her chair, "Nobody snoops into my private life, dear. They wouldn't dare." She let out a funny laugh. "Besides, you'll find heteronormativity works wonders. No one would suspect a thing."

Clara had to smile at that, knowing it to be true and realising how it could for the first time work to her advantage.

"So, eight o'clock, then?" Missy asked as she made to leave.

The younger woman thought it over, but already knew her answer. "Make it seven," Clara said, smirking, "And I like steak."

Missy grinned, a glint in her pale eyes that made Clara want to take her then and there on the desk. "Ooh, I like you, Miss-"

"Oswald," Clara replied, walking towards the doorway so that they got to it at the same time, and making a show of 'accidentally' having to brush against Missy to get past. Missy's eyes darkened and Clara couldn't help another smirk as she started to step away once out the other side. "Clara Oswald."

With that, she turned around and walked away without looking back, feeling Missy's eyes on her the whole time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: 
> 
> “I know we hate each other but it’s christmas eve and your flight was cancelled please come inside” au


	6. A Christmas Miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "i know we hate each other but it's christmas eve and your flight was cancelled please come inside" au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! This one is on the longer side, but I feel like there won't be any complaints about this.
> 
> Twelve finally makes an appearance in this collection, and there was so much great interaction happening between the three that I'm doing a slight revision of this AU to make it into a platonic/gen Twisswald thing to post as a separate oneshot.
> 
> But this version of full of Misffle fluff. ;)

She was playing Taylor Swift again.

If Missy had to hear one more verse of the globe's blonde sweetheart and her sickeningly poetic lyrics, she was going to murder someone.

"Play some fucking Christmas music like a normal person!" She shouted through the wall, giving it a good pound with her fist for good measure.

Not that she was usually one to endorse _normal_ things, but it was Christmas Eve for fuck's sake, what was the girl doing playing the same Taylor Swift album she'd been listening to the last two months on repeat?

Normally, her next door neighbour and nemesis of sorts might have replied with an explicit shout and wall bang of her own, but this time there was no reply.

That annoyed Missy further. If there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was being ignored.

She just barely suppressed the urge to march out of her front door to bang on the one next to it until it opened and she was able to strangle the young woman who lived inside. Instead, she went to her mobile, which had a text from her best friend confirming that he would be dropping by in the evening to crash on her couch and then spend Christmas with her.

That calmed her a little, and she smiled slightly at the thought of seeing the Doctor. Well, everyone else called him that, but he'd always be Thete to her.

Still, there was a lot to do this afternoon. Namely, baking more Christmas cookies and gingerbread men than any reasonable person could ever need. So she got to work. It was all going perfectly well until she ran out of sugar for the next batch.

A last minute run to the store it was, then.

With a large bag of sugar and an extra bottle of vodka under her arm - one could never have too much liquor at Christmas - Missy made her way back to her apartment building. And who happened to also be entering the lift but Miss Prissy Polly Puppy herself.

The odd part was the suitcase in her hand and the fact that Missy had been sure she would have been going home for the holiday, to family or some other such thing.

The moment Tiny Annoying Puppy - or Clara, as Missy vaguely remembered she was called - spotted Missy and realised she was joining her in the elevator, the shorter woman scowled.

"Great, this is all I need to make this day even better," she muttered as Missy got in and the doors shut behind her.

"Oh yeah, because starting my day off with the same fucking Taylor Swift album as the last two months was exactly what I'd wanted for Christmas Eve this year," Missy retorted, and the two of them glared at each other (as they so often ended up doing).

At least, until Missy noticed the tear tracks on the younger woman's cheeks and the red around her eyes.

"What's the matter with _you_?" She asked, without really knowing why she was doing so.

"What do you care?" Clara snapped.

Missy rolled her eyes. "It's a simple enough question. So _rry_ for trying to be civil for once, remind me to never ever _ever_ bother again."

There was a brief pause.

"My flight got cancelled," Clara said softly, "Weather's too bad."

"Oh."

It was strange and rather unsettling for Missy to look at the woman she had spent a good six months hating with a passion only to out of nowhere feel the smallest slither of sympathy for her. (And in Missy's books, any measure of sympathy was a downright miracle in itself.)

" _Look, could you_ not _play heavy metal music kinda loud in the middle of the night? Some of us need early nights because we get up early."_

" _Yeah, and some of us get woken up by truly atrocious shower singing that we could really do without, funny how things tend to go both ways, short stuff."_

_Red cheeks. And delightfully angry chocolate eyes. "_ My _singing? I hear you singing opera at all hours of the day!"_

" _I'm entitled to sing whatever I like-"_

" _Look, just shut up, okay? Do what you like, but for God's sake, do it a bit quieter."_

It had been months of mutual glares, icy silences, bickering in the hallway, and shouting through the wall. (And, admittedly, even once or twice a phone call to Thete to rant about her neighbour from hell.)

But now Missy found herself staring at this Clara's face, her huge doe eyes red and still glistening a little, and wondering how the hell she hadn't realised before now just how beautiful her enemy was.

"That's too bad," she said, only half aware of her own words.

Clara seemed surprised, and just nodded. "Yeah," she replied, sniffing, "Bet you were looking forward to me not be around for a few whole days."

The elevator reached their floor and the doors opened with a ping. Missy went to stride out first, only to stop, cough, and politely step back to let out Clara, who was understandably a bit confused about the mild change in behaviour but went out into the corridor all the same.

They made the walk to their adjacent doors in silence.

"Do you, uh, have special plans for Christmas?" Clara asked her as they both fumbled for their keys.

"Hm?" Missy finally found her keys and shoved the right one into the lock. "Oh, yeah. My best friend is coming by, we try to spend the holiday together since neither of us have any family."

"...that's nice that you have each other, at least."

"Yeah…" Missy nodded absently, and half pushed her door open before glancing back at the neighbour she had despised for so long, who was staring at her own door with an expression that clearly said she was barely holding it together.

Well, Missy couldn't have that. She couldn't stand crying.

"Come inside," she said, out of nowhere, surprising herself almost as much as Clara. The already massive pair of eyes widened even more, though that should have been impossible.

"What?"

"You heard me," Missy told her airily, "Come. Inside."

Clara frowned. "But we hate each other."

"Yeah, I know, and usually it's wonderful, but it's _Christmas_ and I'm not going to be able to enjoy myself if I know that there's a very pretty girl crying her lovely eyes out on the other side of my wall." Missy rolled her eyes. "So come on."

Clara tilted her head at her. "Are you _complimenting_ me now?"

Missy narrowed her eyes at her. "Don't be ridiculous. You've done absolutely nothing to warrant any compliments from me, puppy, I'm simply stating indisputable facts. Now for the last time, get the _fuck_ inside before I change my mind."

At that, Clara hurried past her into the apartment, pulling her suitcase with her and leaving against the wall near the entrance.

"Well, thanks, I guess," the younger woman said awkwardly, "It's Melissa, right?"

Missy followed her in and shut and locked the door behind them before heading for her kitchen. "Everyone who's anyone calls me Missy, pup, under the circumstances you might as well do the same."

Clara, without much else to do, followed her into the kitchen.

"Holy shit, you've been busy," she said as she took in the three trays of cookies already cooling on the bench, "Are you even finished?"

"Of course not, I haven't done any of the gingerbread men yet."

"I thought you just said your friend was coming over? You'll have enough to feed a small country at the rate you're going."

Missy snorted. "A small country, or one very irritating Scotsman. He always eats all my biscuits. Every year without fail. So if you're worried about food going to waste, don't be."

With that, she set about baking the first batch of gingerbread men. She was aware of the puppy's eyes on her all the while.

"Is there a particular reason you're staring at me, puppy?" Missy hadn't looked up, so she didn't know what expression was on the other woman's face, but she imagined it was one of being caught out.

"Why are you calling me that?" Clara asked instead of answering the question put to her.

"Calling you what?"

"A puppy."

"Because you _are_ a puppy. All big brown eyes and simpering sweetness but with bark and bite too. I thought it was obvious."

"How is that obvious?"

"It's not my fault you're obviously a bit slow."

"I am not!"

"And it's almost charming that you think so." Missy put the gingerbread men in the oven and finally turned to face her nemesis turned guest. "Now, I suppose if I'm playing host I'd better offer you a drink. What will it be? We have vodka, cranberry, vodka and cranberry, or water."

"What, the eggnog saved for tomorrow?"

"Don't be absurd, I won't let that foul stuff anywhere near my apartment, let alone my taste buds."

Clara gave her a funny look but seemed like she was holding back a chuckle. "Alright. Er, vodka and cranberry, thanks."

Missy fixed her the drink, and one for herself. They stood in her cookie-laden kitchen sipping at their glasses.

"Why do we hate each other?" Clara asked eventually.

The question wasn't one Missy had anticipated, and she blinked before thinking it over. "Because we're both highly unreasonable people with backbones of steel and little tolerance for others getting in our way."

"I'm not unreasonable-"

"Of course you are. So am I. That's the whole problem, pup, like I just said."

Clara bit her lip, frowning deeply. "Hmm. You might actually be right." She gulped down the rest of her drink and put it on the only free section of counter near her. "So what time is your friend coming? It's already seven. Do you have some kind of special dinner planned? Because I wouldn't want to intrude-"

"He'll get here when he decides to get here," Missy said, shrugging, "I think we'd discussed ordering pizza."

"Pizza?"

"Why _not_ pizza?"

Clara coughed. "No reason. It's just...not what you think of for Christmas, I guess. But you probably do the proper food tomorrow, right?"

"No, we usually order more pizza than we need and reheat it for Christmas," Missy told her as she started whipping up some icing for the gingerbread men.

"Reheated pizza for Christmas lunch and dinner? That's awful."

Missy whipped around and planted her hands on her hips as she glared at her guest. "And just why is that, Miss I Have Superior Ideas of What Christmas Should Be For People I Know Nothing About?"

Clara looked shocked at her words, and swallowed. "Sorry. You're right, I shouldn't - I'll just go, this was a bad idea, I can tell you're regretting it-" She went to head for the door, but Missy was quick to catch her up and grab her tightly by the wrist.

"Nonsense, puppy, I'm not regretting anything," she told her firmly, "I just wanted you to stop nitpicking and try to relax so that you could actually enjoy yourself."

"Maybe I don't want to enjoy myself," Clara snapped, tears springing to her eyes to Missy's bewilderment, "Maybe I just want to be with my dad and gran for Christmas and since that's impossible maybe I just want to go back to my apartment and sit in my bed and cry about the fact that I don't get to spend Christmas with anyone who actually cares about me."

"Well, no, fair point, you could do that," Missy agreed, rolling her eyes, "Or you could use this opportunity to make a new friend or two over the holiday and actually get something out of your misfortune. Or are you so intent on your own pointless misery that you'd _really_ rather go back to your apartment and cry like some kind of baby?"

Clara sniffed and stared at her. "All this time we've hated each other, and now you want to be my friend?"

"Well, not if you keep on with this horrible snivelling thing, I'll get bored of that very quickly," Missy told her, wrinkling her nose with distaste, "But I've decided you're more tolerable when not actively trying to make my life a living hell, and it's Christmas, so why not?"

An odd laugh escaped Clara. "I'm starting to think that I was a bit right when I thought you were mad."

"Oh, as a hatter and then some, dear," Missy said pleasantly, releasing Clara's wrist, "The Doctor's almost as bananas as me, but he hides it better."

"The Doctor?"

"My friend. That's what he's called."

"What kind of name is _the Doctor_?"

"A silly one, but normal ones don't much suit him and he _is_ silly, so it's for the best. He's Thete to me, and always will be, but he hates it when people call him Theo or Theodore, so just call him Doctor when he arrives."

With the timing of the devil himself, there was a knock at the door and Missy beamed and hurried to answer it. Sure enough, her long time best friend was standing there with a wrapped present in his hands.

"Merry Christmas Eve," he said, with a small smile. She just snatched the present out of his hands.

"Come on in, then."

He walked in only to stop at the sight of Clara. "Er, Missy, there's a short roundish person in your living space."

"I'm aware of that, dear."

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Perfectly. Doctor, this is Clara from next door, Clara, this is the Doctor."

The Doctor's impressive eyebrows furrowed as he stepped closer to Clara. "From next door? You mean the one you've called me to complain about because you hate her so much?"

Clara snorted. "Do they have that thing called tact where you're from?"

"What?"

The short woman rolled her eyes. "Charming. She's hardly a ray of sunshine herself."

"You don't have to tell me," he said, addressing her properly for the first time, "You're not the one who's known her since she was called Matthew and getting me into trouble left right and centre with parents, teachers _and_ the police."

Clara's eyebrows went up at the Matthew part, but to her credit, she didn't comment. Not that Missy was quietly listening, and not that she cared what Clara thought of such things.

"Really, though, why are you here?" The Doctor asked Clara. "If you two hate each other like I was led to believe."

"My flight home was cancelled. Missy invited me in to hang with you guys. If...that's okay."

"Hey, the more the merrier," he said, shrugging, "It's her that has a problem with people, not me. I'm her only friend."

"That's not true," Missy told him.

"It is so true," he replied, fixing her with a look, "But it seems like this Clara person might be your friend. If you're, you know, nice. Novel concept, for you, I know, but you could try."

Clara giggled. He just blinked at her.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Oh, sorry, you're just not what I expected."

"What were you expecting?"

The smaller brunette shrugged. "When she mentioned her best friend stopping in? I dunno, maybe some kind of weird drug dealer type. Or hitman-"

The Doctor stared at her before turning his indignation onto his friend. "What the hell have you been doing to this poor girl? What does she think of you to assume you have friends like that? Hitman drug dealers?"

"Or washed up death metal guitarist?" Clara added, sheepishly. "That was going to be my other guess."

The Doctor's lips twitched. "Well, I do actually play guitar. None of her awful death metal though. I like David Bowie."

"I've only gone out of my way to make sure she was as annoyed by my presence as I was by hers," Missy remarked, offended, "She's just as horrid as I am, thank you very much."

"Gee, thanks," Clara snorted.

"Any time," Missy snarked back.

"You two are hilarious," the Doctor told them, grinning and going to the cupboard to pull out the guitar he kept at Missy's specifically for his use on special occasions. "By all means, continue your bantering, it's very funny."

He sat on Missy's couch with the ease of someone who had done so many times, and started tuning the guitar.

"You hate banter," Missy reminded him, frowning.

"Usually, but it's funnier when it's you."

Missy just sighed and shook her head. "Come on, Clara, help me with the gingerbread men and ignore silly old Thete."

"Can I have some?" The Doctor called after them as they went into the kitchen.

"Fuck off and learn some patience," Missy retorted without missing a beat, "You get them when they're done and not before."

She heard him chuckle. "Love you too, Koschei."

Missy shook her head and ignored him as she went to the oven to remove the tray of gingerbread men and find a place to set it down that wasn't already holding cookies. All the while, she could feel Clara's eyes on her.

"You called me Clara."

"Hmm. So I did. Don't let it go to your head, pup, I say a lot of silly things almost constantly."

There was a silence as Missy put in the next tray of gingerbread men which had already been prepared. Finally Clara spoke again.

"What was that he called you?" Clara asked. "Ko-something."

"Oh, that," Missy said, turning around to face her and removing her oven mitts, "Koschei. It's my name. The name he gave me."

"I don't understand."

"You know, it's funny, a lot people say they knew straight away they weren't how they should be, and hate hearing their old name, thinking of it as dead," she continued, softly, "But for quite a few years I _was_ Matthew, and I was perfectly happy. Until one day I wasn't. And I told Thete, because he was my best friend, and why wouldn't I?"

"What did he say?"

"He made up the name Koschei. Our secret, special name for me, that people could assume was just us being silly and still a name for a boy, but it wasn't." Missy smiled. "I was Koschei, the girl, and that secret kept me sane for several years. Until I had the nerve to speak to my family."

Clara smiled too, apparently enjoying the story. "What did they say?"

"Oh, they threw me out," she said, shrugging, and it was obvious that Clara couldn't understand how she could say it with such nonchalance, "Said a lot of not very nice things, I'm afraid. But Thete's family took me in, and they helped me choose the name Melissa. Missy for short, as you know. But I'll always be Koschei to old Thete."

"It sounds like you have a really good friend there."

"Yeah," Missy murmured, absently, but smiling again at the thought of him, "He's a daft idiot but he's mine. Think I might keep him."

"Do I really hate so easily that thinking of you as some awful crazy bitch next door was more automatic than trying to get to know you better?" Clara asked. She had a very sappy look in her eye that immediately soured Missy's mood. When had this conversation turned into one about _feelings_?

"Hey, I _am_ an awful crazy bitch next door, so you weren't wrong on that," Missy told her while getting started on mixing the icing for decorating the gingerbread men. "Now, are you going to help, or are you going to stand there being disgustingly sentimental until I want to be sick all over my lovely biscuits?"

* * *

Clara sat on the couch next to the Doctor, while Missy had stretched out entirely across the other one like a cat who happened to also be in possession of a pizza box and a pair of breasts to rest it on.

As Clara ate her slice of pepperoni, she considered the rather bizarre realisation that she had had not a minute before about the fact that she was really enjoying herself. Here. In the lair of the woman who had up until today been her arch-nemesis.

Well, hated neighbour, but arch-nemesis sounded better.

Sure, there was a small part of her that was still upset about not being able to see her Dad and her Gran, but there was another part going _thank god I don't have to see Linda_ , and yet another thinking about how pizza on Christmas Eve wasn't a bad idea at all because there really wasn't a wrong time for pizza and how had she forgotten that?

"So, Clara from next door, what do you do for a living?" The Doctor asked her. "Does Missy even know?"

"Why would I know?" Missy asked, blinking. "I hated her until today, and even now that I like her I'm not sure that I care."

"And you wonder why I'm your only friend," he said, chuckling.

"I'm a schoolteacher," Clara answered, vaguely surprised by the _now that I like her_ comment but being quietly pleased by it even if she made sure not to let it show, "I teach English."

"Very nice," the Doctor replied, sounding like he meant it, "I'm an avid reader myself."

Clara perked up at that. "Yeah? What's your favourite book? If you can pick a favourite, I mean, not everyone can and-"

" _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_."

That made her grin. "Nice. I don't think I've ever laughed so hard reading a book as when I was reading that. It's complete nonsense."

"I know, that's what makes it brilliant," he agreed, grinning back, "Sci-fi shouldn't be serious. Imagine having the scope of planets and aliens and making it _serious_. What kind of dull person would do that, when you can make it utterly mad?"

"Not Douglas Adams, apparently."

"Yeah, well, I've always liked him, nice to find someone else who appreciates his work." His gaze moved to Missy, who rolled her eyes.

"You know I don't care massively for novels, I much prefer poetry."

"Poetry's nice," Clara conceded, "But there's something about getting totally immersed in a story. You can't beat it."

"I'm with you," the Doctor said, smiling.

"I don't need to get immersed in a story," Missy told them, wrinkling her nose, "I like _my_ story just fine." She checked the time on her phone. "Ooh, the last batch of gingerbread men are done."

"Can I eat some yet?" The Doctor asked as she got up to go to the kitchen.

"No, you pest, _wait_. We're almost there." She disappeared to finish off the decorations and get the last batch out.

Clara was more than content to turn to face the Doctor and keep chatting to him. He was an intriguing person, and despite his rather intimidating surface appearance, he had a sparkle - a warmth - in his eyes that she liked a lot.

He had put down his pizza box and picked the guitar back up and was absently strumming chords.

"Do you sing?"

He glanced up. "Sometimes."

"Can you play something?"

He gave her that funny crooked smile of his and started playing a riff that she immediately recognised as Silent Night. Hearing it on guitar was interesting because it was a very different sound, but it was still beautiful and she found herself grinning.

"You're really good."

"It's all just practice," he said, in a way that wasn't humble but wasn't arrogant either.

The Doctor continued to play christmas carols for the next ten minutes, and Clara let her head fall onto the side of the couch, her eyes shutting as she basked in the familiar melodies and found herself thinking that at this rate, Christmas wasn't going to be ruined at all.

"Cookie time!" Missy sing-songed as she came back with a very large plate of biscuits and gingerbread men, all iced and decorated to perfection with a meticulous attention to detail.

The guitar was immediately set aside and the Doctor went about demolishing the treats put in front of him.

"Wow, you weren't kidding," Clara remarked to Missy, while nibbling on her own biscuit.

"Would I lie about gluttony on this level?"

"Shut up," the Doctor told them before wolfing down another gingerbread man.

Sure enough, it wasn't ten minutes before the plate was completely empty and Missy was ducking back into the kitchen to fill it up again. Thankfully, although the Doctor continued to eat the biscuits, he did so much slower this time.

"So, given that the Doctor always takes the couch, I suppose that puts you in with me for the night, puppy," Missy said, smiling at Clara who just blinked.

"What?"

"Well, you _could_ go next door to your own apartment and sleep in your own bed, but it'll be cold and empty and more than a bit sad," Missy pointed out, "Or you could stay here and have a nice girly sleepover with me. My bed's more than comfortable enough for the two of us."

"You really are a bit mad, aren't you?" Clara asked, gaping. "We hated each other this morning."

"And now we don't, it's a fucking Christmas miracle." Missy rolled her eyes. "Now, make your mind up time. Christmas sleepover with me, yes or no?"

"Yes."

It wasn't the rational choice, or one she could think about too much for fear of changing her mind, but staying here with Missy and the Doctor felt right somehow.

Missy beamed. "Lovely."

So sure enough, it wasn't long before Clara was grabbing her pyjamas and getting changed in the bathroom. The Doctor had curled up on the couch with a blanket and more biscuits, and Missy was already in bed when Clara came into the bedroom.

The older woman smiled upon seeing her come in and patted the other side of the bed next to her. Her hair was down for the first time Clara could remember seeing, dark soft curls falling around her shoulders that softened her harsh features. That paired with the black nightie she seemed to be wearing made Clara gulp and wonder if this had been a good idea after all.

She forced any intruding gay thoughts to the back of her mind and got into the bed.

"It's cold in here," she said.

"Mmm, draftiest room in the house, I'm afraid," Missy said as she settled down on her pillow. "But I'm sure we can make do. If we start freezing, we'll just _have_ to share body heat to survive, I suppose."

Clara frowned at her, doing her best to ignore how her heartbeat had kicked up just a little. "Are you flirting with me?"

"Possibly," the other woman answered, resting her chin on her hand so that she could look Clara in the eye, "Would you like that?"

"Um," was all Clara could get out. "I'm going to go to sleep now."

And she did, but as she should have expected at this point in her life, it was never going to be that simple. It wasn't long before she was awake again and shivering. And as much as she tried to ignore them, Missy's words played over in her mind. _If we start freezing, we'll just have to share body heat...would you like that?_

"Missy?" She whispered, half hoping the other woman didn't wake up. "Missy?"

"Hmm?" Missy's foot brushed Clara's calf as she shifted. "What is it, puppy?"

Clara shut her eyes, wondering if she was really about to do this, before ignoring all her inhibitions and deciding to hell with it. (And that didn't have _anything_ to do with how adorable Missy sounded when she was sleepy.)

"I'm cold."

"Oh. Not to worry, dear, I can fix that." Missy slid closer so that her body wrapped around Clara's and her arms secured themselves around her waist. "Better?" She asked, her head now resting in the crook of Clara's neck.

"...yeah."

"Good. Sleep tight, then."

_I do_ not _have a thing for my older female neighbour who until today I hated with the passion of a hundred suns,_ Clara tried to tell herself as she shut her eyes and basked in the warmth and softness of Missy's body cocooning hers.

Yep, she was so screwed.

* * *

When morning came, Clara woke up in an unfamiliar bed in a room that was definitely not hers, with a pair of thin, pale arms wrapped around her and someone's hair tickling her neck.

It took a few seconds for all of the events from the day before to come back to her. The most alarming of which was of course the fact that she was currently _being spooned by the neighbour she had hated for months, at her own (non-direct) request_.

"Missy?"

"Oh, you're awake, good," Missy murmured, "Sleep alright, did you?"

"Um, yeah, fine," Clara replied, and gently wriggled away from Missy and broke her grip so that she could get out of the bed. She stopped and turned around when she got to the bedroom door. "Merry Christmas."

Missy, who was in the process of sitting up, beamed at her. "Oh, you _are_ being nice to me now, aren't you? Merry Christmas to you too, pup." Clara tried not to blush as she slipped out of the room because _she was not crushing on this mad infuriating_ _woman_.Absolutely not.

The Doctor, it seemed, was already awake, as her trip to her suitcase near the door revealed.

"Morning, Clara," he said, smiling at her from where he seemed to be tinkering with the Christmas tree lights. Her name sounded nice when he said it in that Scottish brogue.

She smiled back at him. "Morning, Doctor. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you too."

She grabbed some clothes and went to the bathroom to get changed and brush her teeth, emerging feeling more refreshed. When she came back to the living room, the Doctor was still the only one there. For the first time Clara noticed that the Christmas tree only had two presents underneath it and that one of them was the one the Doctor had brought. The other had 'Thete' scribbled on it.

It was sad, this further indicator of Missy really only having one person in her life that cared about her. But also oddly touching, because having seen it with her own eyes, she knew that at least that one person did care about her _a lot_. Probably more than anyone in Clara's life cared about her except her dad and her gran. Maybe even just as much as.

"Everything okay?"

She shook herself of those thoughts, if only because they might have started showing on her face if the Doctor's concerned look was anything to go by.

"Yeah, fine. Missy not up yet?"

The Doctor shook his head. "She always takes a while. She'll be out when she wants to be."

That made perfect sense given what Clara knew about Missy. She was struck by a brilliant idea and went to the kitchen to see if it could be carried out. Her investigation into the matter told her that it could, and she immediately set to work.

Some fifteen minutes later, a familiar voice made her jump.

"What the _hell_ are you up to?" Missy asked, her voice not nearly as unfriendly as her words should have made it. It was a question of bewilderment, not accusation.

"I'm making pancakes," Clara said, looking at her over her shoulder as she flipped one over in the pan.

"Why?"

"Because you've been really, oddly nice to me and it seemed like a nice Christmas gesture? Besides, we can't eat _only_ pizza and biscuits all day."

"Can too," Missy retorted, and Clara just lifted an eyebrow. "But...I suppose pancakes for breakfast would make a change."

"You're welcome," Clara told her, smirking.

Missy ignored her and went on to the living room, leaving Clara to cook the rest of the pancakes. When she brought them out to the coffee table, she was amused to find Missy pulling a reluctant Doctor into dancing with her to the cheesy Christmas music coming from the speakers on the bookshelf.

" _Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock,"_ Missy was crooning as she held the Doctor's hands tight and forced him to spin around with her.

Clara grinned at the sight, surprised how fondness could take up in her so quickly when she had only met one of them yesterday and hated the other until about the same time.

"Food," she told them, and they broke from their dance to sit down and serve themselves.

This wouldn't have been a problem if Missy hadn't sat right next to Clara.

Missy was still wearing her hair down, and had dressed in a gorgeous red dress with a floaty skirt and medium length sleeves. She looked utterly beautiful, and Clara was struggling not to stare.

_Why her?_ She lamented as she tried and failed to keep her eyes on her food. _This was a lot easier when I just hated her. And didn't know what she looked like when she smiled, or laughed. Or how she's a lot nicer to cuddle with than you might think to look at her._

She stopped those thoughts dead, internally groaning at how deep down she knew she didn't at all regret how the last twenty four hours had panned out. She could skype her dad and Gran later to say Merry Christmas, and in the meantime would keep enjoying the new company of the bizarre people she was possibly considering friends.

The Doctor, after complimenting Clara on the pancakes and thanking her for making them, hopped up to grab the two presents from under the tree and handing Missy's to her before sitting back down with his.

For some reason, the Doctor's present turned out to be a book on knitting patterns, and he was delighted with it, ringing home that he really was an anomalous individual that Clara liked very much.

Missy opened her present with a surprising delicacy, her red nails pulling at the paper until it fell away to reveal a book of old poetry. Her eyes widened and her head lifted to look at the Doctor.

"Is this the-"

"One with all the really morbid ones you like, yeah," he answered, smiling at her. Missy held the book close to her chest as she got up to go and lean down to kiss him on the cheek. He smiled quietly as she went and sat back down.

Even closer to Clara than before.

"I'll be right back," the Doctor said, getting up and disappearing off down the hall.

Being left alone with Missy really wasn't helping Clara's problem. She was all too aware of the old jumper and jeans she was wearing and how it paled in comparison to Missy's scarlet dress and matching lipstick and nails. It was rare for her to feel insecure about her appearance - she was very pretty and she knew it - but here she was, crushing on her strange new friend and thinking she had no chance in hell.

Which was probably a good thing, if she was thinking sensibly, but she wasn't and she could only feel a bit disheartened.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Missy asked quietly. She put her elbow on the edge of the couch so that she could rest her head on her hand again as she watched Clara, with those icy blue eyes that contrasted with every other part of her.

"Uh," Clara said, because a clever lie couldn't immediately come to her head. She then decided a part of the truth wouldn't go amiss. "I was just thinking that you look really beautiful. The dress is nice."

Missy seemed surprised by this, her mouth falling open a little. "Oh. How nice. I think it's been a while since anyone's called me beautiful. Well, except for Thete, maybe, but he doesn't count."

"I find that hard to believe," Clara replied before she could stop herself.

An actual blush - albeit a small one - coloured Missy's cheeks for a moment. "Well, thank you, dear. You're very sweet. And very pretty yourself even if that jumper probably needs to be burned."

Clara laughed, blushing a bit herself. "Um, thanks, I think?"

That was when they became aware of the Doctor standing over them, a sprig of mistletoe in his hand and a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Thete, what the hell are you doing?" Missy asked the Doctor, arching an eyebrow.

"You always have mistletoe," he said as if it were obvious, "You like to catch me and kiss me because you know it annoys me. Decided to find it for myself first this year. Now come on, you know exactly what you have to do."

Clara watched as Missy's eyes came to rest on her, a new look in them that made Clara's heart pick up pace. She lifted an eyebrow again, this time in a very obvious question.

The younger woman licked her lips nervously and seized a moment of bravado. "I mean, it is a tradition," she said lamely.

That was all Missy needed before she leaned in and kissed Clara softly. A thrill of success surged through Clara, but after only a moment Missy started to pull away.

Clara held onto her bravado and chased her lips, her hand coming up to cup the back of Missy's head as the other woman deepened the kiss. Warmth spread all through Clara's body and when she and Missy finally parted, they were both breathing a bit more heavily and Missy's lipstick was smudged (and probably on Clara's face now too) .

"Well," Clara said, coughing, unable to hide her massive grin.

The Doctor was frowning at them. "You two _like_ each other," he said slowly, suggesting he was only just realising that _after_ his interference had resulted in them kissing rather enthusiastically.

"Well _obviously_ ," Missy said, rolling her eyes very melodramatically, "But I thought you'd worked that out! Why else would you do this with the mistletoe?"

"I was just trying to be annoying!" The Doctor defended. "Like you always are. I didn't realise you'd partake with such...enthusiasm."

There was a brief silence. Clara looked between his owlish frown and Missy's incredulous disbelief, and just started laughing helplessly. Missy snapped to look at her, only for her lips to quirk and for her to start laughing too.

Soon they were all laughing so hard that they nearly had tears in their eyes.

As the Doctor picked up the guitar again and Clara shamelessly cuddled into Missy - who from that moment onwards actually occasionally called her Clara - she thought that it might just turn out to be one of her best Christmases ever.

It just went to show that sometimes the strangest things in life could also be the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: 
> 
> "you need a plus-one for your brother's wedding so I'm going as a favor but there's been a misunderstanding and now your whole family thinks we're engaged" AU


	7. Accidentally Faked Engaged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "you need a plus-one for your brother's wedding so i'm going as a favor but there's been a misunderstanding and now your whole family thinks we're engaged" AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Contains misgendering of a trans person and some not so nice stuff said in regard to said person's being transgender (not sure if I'd go as far as to say slurs, but it's Not Great), so don't read if that's going to be triggering/upsetting.

"Remind me why I'm here?"

"Because Thete's in hospital having thrown his back out trying to prove he was better at limbo than me."

"Not his brightest moment - everyone knows you're the best at limbo."

"Exactly." Clara and Missy exchanged looks before the latter added, "It _was_ fairly funny though. Bless his wee heart. Not to mention, he looks so put out in that hospital bed."

"That might have had something to do with me putting a picture of him and the balloon you got him on Instagram."

They grinned at each other, and Clara turned her eyes back to the road somewhat reluctantly. She'd keep staring at Missy if she could, because her best friend was looking _damn good_. Sleeveless dark purple dress, high heeled boots up to her knees, topped off with crimson lipstick and a loose mane of hair.

"Seriously, though, why bring me?" She asked curiously.

"I'm not braving this den of moronic conservative cattle on my own!" Missy said, horrified. "What the hell do you take me for, a masochist?"

"Sort of, yeah," Clara replied, "Or at least, probably in a kinky way." Missy snorted, but Clara could see her grinning. "If you hate your family so much, you just shouldn't come."

"An Oakdown doesn't simply miss an event as important as a wedding, Clara."

"Why not? Since when do you do as you're told?"

"Because-" Missy frowned and waved her hand dismissively. "Because we just _don't_. I wouldn't expect you to understand."

They pulled up outside the church and got out of the car. Clara smoothed her tight blue dress even though there weren't any wrinkles in it.

"Ready?" She asked her friend.

"As I'll ever be," Missy muttered. She put her arm through Clara's and they headed for the church entrance. An elegant woman in her seventies was standing there, and Clara was aware of how Missy's body tensed immediately.

"Melissa!" The woman said with a large smile that was definitely forced. "So glad you could make it after all. Oh look at you, don't you look lovely. You know, I think you actually look better than half the women here."

"And why shouldn't she?" Clara asked, scowling.

"Leave it, pup," Missy hissed, before giving the woman a sickly sweet smile. "So nice to see you, Sylvia, but we'd best get to our seats. Catch up at the reception."

With that she herded a quietly fuming Clara into the church and into the back row.

"My stepmother," Missy said as they sat down, "Charming woman, as you can see."

" _She's_ your stepmother?"

"Unfortunately. She's about as bad as yours. You think the backhanded compliments are bad, but given that she only stopped calling me Matthew ten years ago, and only then at my father's insistence, I couldn't give a flying pigshit. I _know_ I look better than almost everyone here, I don't need a transmisogynistic bitch in peach telling me so."

"You _do_ look great," Clara said, grinning at her, "Not to mention, your arm candy isn't bad either."

Missy grinned back. "Well, you know what they say, if you don't want to join 'em, beat 'em." She turned her gaze forward. "Alright, so groom is my stepbrother Michael, which you know already, his bride's some Welsh model I've never met, and my father's the one in grey in the front row with superiority infecting his immediate two yard radius."

Clara giggled. "Good to know. What's your dad's name again?"

"To be honest, I'd stick with Lord Oakdown, he only lets people he actually respects address him by his first name."

"Charming." Clara knew about how Missy's family were technically nobility, but that didn't make the title of 'Lord' any stranger to hear.

That was when the bridal march began to play, and they along with everyone else turned to look at the bride. She was pretty, Clara supposed, in a cold sort of way, but that meant she would probably fit in just fine with the Oakdown family, from what Clara knew of it.

The ceremony was boring, and Missy and Clara whispered to each other for most of it, Missy giving Clara the dirt on everyone in the pews in front of them. There were a few times that Clara couldn't keep in her giggles and they were sent a dirty look or two, but neither of them particularly cared.

They ran into Lord Oakdown on the way out.

"Melissa," he said, lifting an eyebrow, "Good to know you still have some measure of decency. Do try to not make too much of a spectacle of yourself at the reception, won't you?"

"Who, me?" Missy said innocently, smirking.

He frowned. "I mean it. I don't care how successful you are, it doesn't give you a free pass for embarrassing this family any further than you already have."

"Noted." Her voice was much colder, and he just sniffed and walked on out of the church.

"Have I mentioned that I _hate_ your family?" Clara said as they watched him go. She was fairly sure her nails were digging into Missy's arm, but the other woman hadn't said anything about.

"You and me both, sister. Come on, we might as well go to the reception. At least they'll have an open bar."

* * *

The reception was in the gardens of the Oakdown estate, and Clara couldn't disguise her gaping at the grandeur of the place. Missy, meanwhile, seemed very unhappy to be back at her childhood home.

"God I'd forgotten how much I hate this place."

"We only have to stay a few hours," Clara reminded her, giving her hand a squeeze. "Look, there's champagne over there, let's grab some."

The champagne did seem to raise Missy's spirits, and they were able to find some of Missy's cousins, who for the most part were actually alright and quite pleasant to talk to.

"So what do you do, Clara?" One of them asked with interest.

"I'm a schoolteacher," she said, "English."

"She's too good for the public school system, but she won't go private no matter how much I try to convince her," Missy added, sighing and brushing some lint off Clara's dress because it was annoying her.

"It's the public school kids that need the good teachers more than anyone else," Clara defended, "I won't abandon them to someone who doesn't give a shit about them just for money."

One of Missy's cousins nodded with approval, while Missy just rolled her eyes.

"That's my Clara," she said with exasperation, pushing a stray strand of the smaller brunette's hair behind her ear affectionately, "Always so inherently _caring_. It's exhausting. I don't know how I put up with it."

"Shut up," Clara said, rolling her own eyes, "You love me really."

"For some reason, yes." Missy turned to her cousins. "I think it's the eyes. I mean, have you seen them? They're so unbelievably beautiful that I can't even _think_ sometimes when she looks at me."

Clara felt her cheeks go red as her friend gestured emphatically. It wasn't the first time Missy had said something complimentary about her eyes, but it _was_ the first time she'd been so direct about it.

The cousins murmured their agreement and the conversation moved onto sports, which neither Clara were particularly interested in, so they went to grab more champagne and were happy enough chatting between the two of them, Missy delivering more of the gossip on members of the family. That is, until they overheard a conversation at a nearby table.

"Sylvia, where's Matthew? Surely he wouldn't miss his own stepbrother's wedding."

Missy's grip on her glass tightened until Clara was sure she was going to break it. The younger woman took it from her before she could hurt herself.

"You mean you haven't heard?" Sylvia's voice said in reply to the first.

"Heard what?"

"I suppose it _has_ been a long time since we all got together like this, but I was sure that everyone knew."

"Knew what?"

"Well, you know how he wasn't quite right in the head? After Ailla cheated on him, he just completely lost it."

"How you mean?"

"I mean that now, he's-"

Missy marched over to them, pulling Clara with her by the hand, and it was very satisfying to see Sylvia's eyes widen with trepidation at the look in her stepdaughter's eye.

"Great Aunt Tess," Missy said, with a sickly sweet smile, "Long time no see. As my dear stepmother here was saying, I'm just _completely_ bonkers these days. I suppose that's what comes with being a woman, isn't that supposed to be part of the deal?"

"Matthew?" Tess blinked at her. "Is that you?"

"Her name is Melissa," Clara said, gritting her teeth.

"This is Clara Oswald," Missy told them, putting her arm around her friend's shoulders, "My shining star, moon of my life. Clara, these are my boring relatives. Now come on, it's time we both were finding-"

"Oh my goodness!" The old woman who was neither Tess nor Sylvia exclaimed, her eyes having fixed on something by Clara's leg. "Melissa, why didn't you say so earlier?"

"Say what earlier?" Missy asked flatly.

Clara looked down at where the elder was staring, and felt panic flood her body. Her mother's ring was glinting in the sun, on the only finger it fit.

"Missy-"

"Not now, dear-"

"You're _engaged_?!" Sylvia screeched, having also spotted the ring. "Dear god, haven't you done enough already without making this a _gay_ thing as well?!"

Missy stared at her with complete bemusement until she followed their gaze to the ring and blinked. Before she could offer any kind of coherent reply, the relatives at the next table had heard.

"Oh Melissa! Is it true?"

"Engaged? To a woman?"

"Pay your stepmother no mind, that's lovely, dear, we're so happy for you."

"Uh," Missy said, for the first time since Clara had ever met her rendered utterly speechless. She looked like she was finally about to correct them when even more relatives flocked over with even more comments or congratulations to offer.

One of the aunts gave Missy a hug and Clara had to laugh at how Missy's entire body went stiff. Her hand went to Clara for support and she took it, figuring the gesture didn't matter since they all thought they were engaged anyway.

When the aunt let go, Missy looked around at the large number of people who were eyeing her with a wide range of expressions.

"Well, actually-" She said, only to be interrupted by one of the cousins she was less friendly with.

"Is it still gay?" He asked. "You know, given...what you are."

"It's gay enough," Sylvia snapped, scowling at her stepdaughter, "And what she is, is an attention-seeker trying to ruin my son's day."

"You know what else she is, Sylvia? Still standing right here," Missy snarked.

"Oh, pay her no mind, Melissa, I think it's wonderful you've found yourself someone so obviously lovely and very dear to you," a nicer uncle told her, giving her an encouraging nod.

"Come now, we all know it's incredibly easy to find young and pretty lovers when we've got our kind of family money," Sylvia sniffed, "I don't see what other incentive Miss Oswald would have to marry someone as unpleasant as my stepdaughter, when she could settle down with some nice young man, or at least a real woman if she's one of those lesbians."

Clara nearly launched herself at the woman with fury but found Missy's iron grip holding her back. But for once it wasn't necessary, because half of the relatives started shouting at Sylvia too, some defending the engagement and their love and others defending Missy from the disgusting insult.

The din became deafening, and Missy watched with her eyebrows nearly at her hairline as one of the cousins got punched by one of the others.

"Okay, I really think we need to set them straight now, this is turning into a disaster," Clara said to Missy quietly, but her friend just started laughing.

"Are you kidding?" She gasped between cackles. "This is the best thing to happen all day. All week, even. Hell, all year."

Clara took another look at the chaos in front of them, at the shouting and fighting relatives who seemed to have entirely forgotten about the presence of the two people who were the basis of the conflict in the first place. It wasn't hard to see the funny side.

"So what, we just leave them?" She asked, her lips quirking.

"Play along with me, at least for a while?" Missy batted her eyes as she made her request. "Come on, you know you want to, it'll be loads of fun."

"Sure, why not, should keep things interesting," Clara said, snorting into her glass of champagne.

That was when Lord Oakdown arrived on the scene with the bride and groom in tow as well as the photographer, having finished with the professional photographs.

"What in the name of all that is holy is going on here?!" He demanded, his thunderous voice bringing the entire scene to a stop. A good two thirds of the group had the decency to look a bit ashamed of themselves. Others seemed to be holding firm to the belief that it had all been incredibly necessary.

"There have been some conflicting opinions in reaction to my engagement," Missy told him pleasantly.

He stared at her. "Engagement?"

Clara, sensing her cue, held up her hand so that he could see the ring and gave him her best fake smile (one that was usually reserved for the parents of overly difficult children). He turned an interesting shade of purple.

"You can't be serious-"

"Why not?" Missy asked, eyebrow up.

"She's of no status, and twenty years your younger, and a _she_ -"

"Oh please," she said, rolling her eyes, "Uncle William has a trophy wife, I don't see why I should be denied the same pleasure. Or are you just jealous that you're stuck with the peach hag over there while I've got the hottest piece of ass this side of Sunday on my arm?"

Between the comment itself and the sheer outrage and shock on Lord Oakdown's face, Clara nearly died then and there trying to keep in her giggles.

"You like _men_ ," he told her furiously, "That was the only consolation through all of this when you transitioned, that at least as a woman you could be _respectable_."

"There's this incredible thing out there called bisexuality, father dearest, I suggest you look it up sometime." Missy rolled her eyes. "Honestly, you catch me shagging Thete on the couch one time - and oh yes, Sylvia, it was when I was still Matthew, is _that_ gay enough for you? Good, because it was on the nice brown one you like so much-"

"Melissa Tremas Oakdown, you will remove yourself and your _fiance_ from the premises before you make any more of a spectacle of yourself," Lord Oakdown spat, "Right this second."

"Actually, I'd prefer that they stayed," Michael said from behind him, "Given that it is _my_ wedding and _my_ sister in question."

Clara didn't know who looked more shocked at his interruption - Missy or her father. Their expressions of complete bewilderment revealed the first family resemblance Clara had ever seen between the two of them.

"Go on, Missy, give the girl a kiss for us, will you?" Michael said to his stepsister, grinning at her. "I personally believe this party isn't yet gay _enough_ , and would have that rectified."

Missy's eyebrows went up again, and before Clara could say anything, she was being yanked into a firm kiss. Clara had all of a second to freeze with surprise before the feeling of Missy's lips made her kiss back immediately, a warmth flooding her body with such vivacity that she might have been shocked if she hadn't been so focused on Missy's hand winding through her hair or her lips parting against hers.

Clara moaned into her mouth, and Missy used the firm grasp she had on Clara's jaw to kiss her that much harder, her tongue flicking out to press against the seam of Clara's lips.

"That is quite enough," Lord Oakdown snapped.

Instead of pulling away, upon breaking the kiss Missy held Clara's lower lip between her teeth and make a show of pulling on it. As she finally released it, she gave Clara one of the hottest and filthiest looks the schoolteacher had ever seen.

Clara knew it was all for show, but that didn't mean that she wasn't now completely hot and bothered and picturing illicit scenarios that one wasn't supposed to even consider when it came to one's best friend. There was an ache between her legs too, which she pointedly ignored.

Someone - a lone cousin probably - let out a wolf whistle. Lord Oakdown meanwhile looked ready to explode, while Michael and his bride looked quite amused. The larger family varied on a scale from scandalised to delighted.

"Thanks for the offer, Mikey boy," Missy said a little breathlessly, turning to smile at her stepbrother while taking a tight hold of Clara's hand, "But if you don't mind, I think Clara and I are going to take off and have fantastically gay sex in my car on the side of a road somewhere. But really, thank you anyway, and congratulations."

With that and a single cheery wave, Missy dragged Clara from the gardens. Once they were out of earshot they erupted into laughter that lasted all the way back to the car.

"So, where are we going now?" Clara asked as they got in.

Missy glanced at her, with a weight in her gaze that made Clara's mouth go dry. "Well, my dear Clara, that rather depends on you."

Clara swallowed. "Meaning?"

Missy's hand moved to rest on her thigh, light as a feather but enough to make Clara's brain short circuit. "Well, my offer stands, if you're interested."

The image of them parking the car on some country road and having sex in the backseat was enough to make Clara nearly jump her then and there, but she would not give in quite that easily.

"What, I don't even get a bed in one of the dozen country hotels around here?" She asked, eyebrow up. "Car sex, really classy. You know how to make a girl feel special."

"I already make you feel special," Missy said flatly, "Wanting to spread you out across my backseat does nothing to diminish that."

Clara's face felt very hot, but she was determined to cling to some semblance of control. "I don't care. Make an effort."

Missy let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine. _Such_ hard work."

"But worth it," Clara promised, and they shared a smirk. The hand on Clara's thigh remained there as Missy changed course, and when it disappeared up Clara's skirt en route to the nearest hotel, Clara made no complaints.

The next morning, a very satisfied Missy had a very elaborate flower arrangement sent to her stepbrother, having rethought her decision to not get him a wedding gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time:
> 
> "I saw you trying to hit the "door close" button in the elevator but I made it in and then I pushed every single button to make you later for work, but now we're stuck in this fucking elevator as it stops at every single floor and I don't know what to say other than 'you started it' " AU


	8. The Elevator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I saw you trying to hit the "door close" button in the elevator but I made it in and then I pushed every single button to make you later for work, but now we're stuck in this fucking elevator as it stops at every single floor and I don't know what to say other than 'you started it' " AU

Clara Oswald was late.

The morning had been a disaster from start to finish, from the alarm not going off to being out of milk  to missing her bus. Even her hair was against her today.

She finally made it into the building and saw that one of the elevators was currently open. She sprinted for it, and to her horror saw the woman inside pressing the button in what had to be an attempt to get the doors to shut earlier.

Despite the woman’s attempts, Clara managed to stop the doors closing and get inside. She glared at the woman, who stared back defiantly, apparently not remotely ashamed of herself.

Furious, Clara took one look at the mass of buttons for the floors and jammed her fingers into every single one.

“Seriously?” Her new nemesis said, in a Scottish accent. She looked extremely unimpressed.

Clara ignored her and crossed her arms. The elevator slowly made its ascent, stopping on every floor and earning a few stares from people on the floors where no one was waiting to get in but no one was getting out.

The utter ridiculousness of the situation crept in on Clara the further up the building they went. She could also feel the stare of the Scottish woman on her. There was only one thing to say.

“You started it,” Clara said lamely.

Unsurprisingly, the Scotswoman didn’t seem to find that worthy of a response, though a tiny snort did escape her.

Clara got off on the twelfth floor and left the mortifying situation behind, slinking into her desk a good twenty four minutes late and hoping no one had noticed.

* * *

Three days later, Clara could not believe her luck when she saw who was again in the elevator as she approached it. With no inappropriate button pressing this time around, Clara got a better look at the woman she had briefly and absurdly considered her nemesis.

She was about fifteen years Clara’s senior, and striking due to her razor sharp cheekbones and pale eyes.

They rode in tense silence, sneaking glances at each other. At least, until something snapped and the next thing Clara knew they were both laughing, at themselves and each other.

“Missy,” the other woman said.

That was when the elevator opened at Clara’s floor. She stepped out, but looked back at the other woman and grinned.

“Clara.”

Seven days and three shared elevator trips later, Missy asked Clara out for coffee. It seemed rude to say no.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time:
> 
> Super hero and super villain AU


End file.
